


Picture me in the trees

by judyannhale



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, F/F, Seven AU, childhood AU, if this has young cameron post vibes don't @ me, the most summer thing I could possibly write, they're cute little kids living their best lives, yes it's just a taylor swift song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judyannhale/pseuds/judyannhale
Summary: Those two trees became their spot - they could always find a perch and while away their days in one daydream or another. Sometimes they'd go back to the swing and take it in turns to fly through the air. Whatever they did, it didn't really seem to matter. Anything they missed out would be waiting for them tomorrow, and every day after that.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 62
Kudos: 55





	1. Stay where the grasses sway

**Author's Note:**

> ...yes I wrote a whole au out of a taylor swift song. this is how I've spent the last couple weeks (I have no life we know) but on the plus side it's pretty much finished so updates will be fast :)
> 
> I don't normally write aus (like ever) and ik this is kind of far from the show lol but I hope y'all like it :)
> 
> And ik I'm not the first to do a seven themed fic - I read readtheroomfucko's a few days after I started this and it's so cute and beautifully written so go check it out if you haven't already!
> 
> Chapter titles are all from alice by heart for my theater kids bc that show just sounds like summer to me

Jen kicked out her legs in front of her, hard, and felt her stomach drop as she swung out over the river. The bottom of the tire slapped against her calves as she swung them back. She didn’t care. For the first time since they’d left Brooklyn, she actually felt okay. 

Here, where the hot air weighed down on her every second of the day, okay was all she could ask for. A few feet off the ground was all she needed to briefly forget the strange feeling of a whole summer stretched out in front of her with no friends and nothing to do. Not to mention after that - a new school, another new house, being roasted alive in this city  _ forever _ . 

Maybe she’d just stay right here all summer. Maybe, if she swung hard enough, she could launch herself across the country and all the way back home.

She’d been going for maybe fifteen minutes, the novelty of the swing not yet worn off, when she spotted a head of mousy brown hair sticking out from the tall yellow grass. The girl looked small - younger than Jen by a few years probably - with bangs parted in the middle since they were growing too long to see out of normally, and eyes that had quickly darted to the ground the moment she realized she’d been spotted. She had one arm around the skinny trunk of a tree on the other side of the river, holding her up as she leaned away from it and swung back and forth awkwardly.

“Hey!” Jen’s call had come out a little confrontational, but she didn’t think that mattered. Spying on someone was a little strange, anyway. The smaller girl looked up at her as she kept swinging fervently over the water. 

“Hi!” Her voice was just as loud, but a lot sweeter. She smiled back and they locked eyes properly for the first time. Jen was surprised by her deep brown eyes - so round and so innocent. She stared for what she realized later was a few moments too long.

“You should jump,” the girl broke the silence, already less timid than Jen had expected.

Her brow furrowed a little. “What?”

“Jump in the river,” she explained, “from the swing.” She stood up straight, moving out of the tall weeds and closer to the water, clasping her hands in front of her. “That’s what I always do.”

Jen sat still on the swing, letting the motion calm a little. She could see the girl squinting up at her better now. Her top was maybe a size too big and had the kind of weird floral pattern she’d only ever seen in thrift stores. Her jeans were baggy and rolled up at the bottom - they looked far too thick for Los Angeles in June. Jen felt overheated just looking at her. Then again, Jen  _ always _ felt overheated here. Even in the shade of a tree the air was too thick and stuffy. _ To think she used to find Brooklyn summers too hot. _

It was then she noticed a beaten-up rag doll clutched in the smaller girl’s hands.  _ She must be young _ .

“Where do you live?” Jen asked. She wondered how often this kid came here. So far, this swing over the river was pretty much the only place she’d found in LA that she didn’t hate. Trust this crummy neighborhood to have a bunch of kids running around and ruining her spot.

The girl pointed vaguely back at the row of houses backing onto the bank. 

“Across the street. The one with the old hatchback.”

Jen knew the house she meant - it was opposite their rental diagonally. So, she didn’t even live on this side of the street and she was still here spying in the weeds. 

“It’s not a river. It’s a creek,” Jen said back, repeating her mother’s words from an hour or so before, verbatim. At the time, she’d insisted it was a river. Rivers were better and having one basically in your backyard was  _ exciting _ \- it was just her mom trying to ruin this for her like she did with everything else. Now, though, this little nugget of knowledge she had over the other girl gave her a sense of satisfaction.

“And the water’s too polluted to jump in,” she added, just to make it clear that she wasn’t  _ scared _ . She was educated. That was another of her mom’s instructions that she’d rolled her eyes at while having sunscreen smeared across her arms. The girl said nothing.

Jen waited until the swing was above the river bank and dug her sneakers into the ground hard, bringing the swing to a halt in one go. She climbed off, her bare legs sticky against the hot black rubber.  _ Everything was too hot here _ .

Shoving her hands into her pockets, Jen climbed back across the log bridge and planted her feet squarely in front of the other girl. She was taller, but not by as much as she’d thought. 

“What grade are you?” Jen asked, once it was clear she’d have to be the one to speak first. That was just fine with her.

“Third. I mean, I’m going into fourth, after summer,” the girl said quickly. Jen was surprised. Must be small for her age, she thought.

“Me too.” She glanced down at the old rag doll in her hands, raising her eyebrows slightly.

The girl looked down, embarrassed, cramming the fabric doll into as tight of a ball as she could manage in an effort to hide it in her hands.

Jen paused. “When’s your birthday?”

“February 21st.”

“I’m older.” Jen smiled, satisfied with that at least. She watched the other girl mirroring her smile - hers was completely genuine. Sweet, even.

“We’ll probably be in the same class.” She pushed her bangs to the sides of her face where they were falling back into her eyes. “We can be friends.”

“I’m not going to school here,” Jen said abruptly. “We’re just renting until we find a permanent house. My mom says this isn’t a very good neighborhood.” She remembered her parents’ complaints from earlier that morning - there had been some  _ hooligan _ shouting on the street, long past Jen had gone to sleep in her dingy new room at the back of the house.  _ We don’t want neighbors like that _ .

The other girl looked disheartened to hear it. Jen didn’t want to care, but she knew she wasn’t exactly in a position to be rejecting friends right now. She shifted her weight awkwardly, digging her hands further into her pockets as she realized she’d insulted this girl’s neighborhood too.

“We can still be friends,” she added with an apologetic smile. The face in front of her lit up - it didn’t seem like this girl was turning down many offers of friendship either. Jen didn’t mind that, though. There was something about her that made her curious - maybe it was just that she was the only person her own age here who seemed to want anything to do with her, or maybe it was something more. She didn’t know yet, but it was the reason she’d bothered to stop swinging and the reason she was still here talking when she heard that familiar, shrill voice cutting through the dry air.

“Jennifer!”

She rolled her eyes and turned around to find - sure enough - her mom waiting expectantly around the back of their fence. 

“You told me I wouldn’t have to come looking for you,” the blonde woman shouted huffily, folding her arms as if to really demonstrate how  _ upset _ she was.

Jen sighed. How was she supposed to know what time it was, anyway?

“I’ve got ballet. I’ve gotta go,” she explained quickly.

“See you tomorrow?” The question came right as Jen was already turning away. She doubled back, her face breaking into a slight grin, and nodded.

“I’m Jen.” She stuck out a hand towards the smaller girl, who took it, surprised.

“Judy.” She smiled.

“Judy,” Jen repeated before she turned back around and ran up the bank to her house. Judy stayed there for a second, watching her blonde ponytail sway from side to side as she went.

Once she was alone again she sat back in her usual spot on the bank, kicking off her worn out sneakers and dipping her toes in the water. Pollution was the least of her worries. She took her doll - named Dolly back when she was barely old enough to speak - and unfolded her carefully, apologizing in her head for being embarrassed. 

There was nothing wrong with still having a doll. At least, there shouldn’t be. It wasn’t like they were playing dress up and tea parties. She was perfectly fine spending days on her own with just Dolly and her imagination, thank you very much. She was the closest thing Judy had to a best friend, and far better than most of the real people she’d had the chance to meet. 

Maybe that would be different now, she thought. Maybe  _ Jen  _ would become her best friend, even if she wasn’t around for long. Judy liked her already. She was so cool, so confident. She had a family who’d move to a better neighborhood and a mom who took her to ballet class. 

Her eyes skimmed across the water and caught on something bright in the riverbed. She reached a hand in, pulling out a small white stone that fit snugly in the palm of her hand. It was beautiful - like some sort of misshapen pearl. It had to be a sign, she thought. A  _ good  _ sign. Judy could really use one of those. She dried it off on her sleeve, turning it over in her palm a couple of times before she shoved it into her pocket for safekeeping.

\- 

“You know there’s snakes in the weeds.”

The blunt words startled Judy out of her imagination. She turned her head to find her new friend waiting a few feet away. Her eyes widened as she realized she could have been standing there for  _ who-knows-how-long _ . She’d been miles away - today as an opera singer touring Europe with Dolly as her daughter, sat on a train gazing out on an endlessly long river and thick woods beyond it. To an outsider she’d just be a strange little girl, playing with dolls and talking to herself. 

Ashamed again, she stuffed Dolly into a pocket - luckily as over-sized as the pair of jeans it belonged to - and scrambled to stand up, emerging from the thick clump of grass. She’d never worried about snakes. More hours than she could count had been daydreamed away on this bank and she hadn’t been bothered by a single one. Most of them were harmless, anyway, so she ignored Jen’s warning.

“I like your hair,” she said instead. Judy was easily impressed, but her hair  _ did _ look cool in two french braids that trailed right from the top of her head down to her waist. She wondered if maybe her mom had sat with her and carefully braided them that morning.

“It’s for dance.” Jen played with one of the ends dangling in front of her chest. The smallest of smiles crossed her lips. Her hair _w_ _ as _ pretty that day.

“Did it myself,” she said proudly. 

“You can do that?” Judy’s wide eyes were like nothing she’d ever seen before - she looked at Jen like she was the most talented person on the planet, all for french braids. 

“I can do yours, if you want?” Jen’s face softened. 

“Really?” Of course Judy’s face lit up with excitement at the prospect. It was things like this that she always missed out on, spending all her time alone. Jen nodded.

“Just find somewhere to sit,” she said, looking around them, “without rattlesnakes.” Her mother’s warnings about sunburn and water pollution could largely be ignored, but poisonous snakes were something else entirely. She wasn’t used to having all these strange creatures around - Brooklyn wasn’t exactly overflowing with wildlife, save for the odd pigeon.

Judy smiled, knowing she was in no position to question anyone else’s fears. She led them to the bridge and sat with her toes dangling in the water, sneakers discarded beside her. Jen didn’t have to worry about the river, sitting cross-legged behind her. The logs were lumpy but she didn’t mind.

“Okay, keep your head still.” Jen pulled back her hair, leaving just her long bangs flopped in front of her eyes. She started to braid right up at her forehead, untangling brown waves as she went.

“I thought ballerinas wore buns,” Judy mused. She stared out at the water, intently focused on staying perfectly still. Her hair was being pulled tight, but not like when her mom brushed it. Jen was more careful than that.

“We do,” Jen replied, automatically a little defensive.  _ She _ was the real ballerina here.  _ What was Judy supposed to know anyway? _ “This is for contemporary, just to keep my hair out the way.”

“What’s contemporary?”

_ Wow _ , Jen thought. She really knew  _ nothing _ about dance.

“It’s like... modern style dance,” she explained. “I have ballet Mondays and Wednesdays and contemporary Tuesdays.” The summer program - four weeks of classes with a recital at the end - had been something of a silver lining from her parents, designed to  _ soften the blow _ of uprooting her whole life. 

It didn’t exactly feel worth it for Jen, especially when there’d been a delay sorting out the rental and they had to move their flights by a few days. She missed the whole first week of class. The worst part by far was spending her last week at home with all her things in boxes and nothing to do - the last few days of her old life dragging on painfully as if it wasn’t already lost.

“You must be really good,” Judy said, impressed that she was still dancing all summer. She must take it  _ seriously _ . To be fair, Judy had never been able to do after-school activities, but she knew most of the kids in her grade would stop their music lessons and sports practice once school was out.

“I am,” Jen said with an honest sort of confidence. Modesty was never something that came into the picture with Jen’s dance - she worked hard and she was good and that was that. 

Judy didn’t really know how to respond. They fell into a comfortable silence, Judy drifting off into a daydream. She had one hand in her pocket, playing with the little white stone. In her head she’d started calling it a pearl - even though she knew it wasn’t one, she didn’t know what it  _ was _ either. It seemed special enough to be a real pearl so, to her, it was.

“You know, I saw your dad shouting last night,” Jen said, almost too casually, as she started on the second braid. Judy was puzzled for a second until she realized-

“That’s not my dad,” she replied quickly.

“Yeah, he was on your porch,” Jen told her, confused. “I saw him kissing your mom.” It was at that point her own mother, who’d been complaining loudly about how this neighborhood was _clearly_ _not a place for children_ , had sent her to bed. She’d gone without complaint. The shouting was oddly fascinating to watch from the window; the kissing just seemed gross.

“He’s not my dad,” Judy repeated, her tone firmer than Jen had heard it before.

“Your stepdad, then?” 

“He’s just Paul,” she said, praying that Jen would just drop it. 

“What was he so angry about?” 

Judy was glad Jen couldn’t see her face. She could feel her cheeks going pink with the embarrassment and anxiety knotted up in her stomach. She wasn’t supposed to talk about her mom’s boyfriends, or her house, or any of that. Her mom had made it clear, though it had seemed unnecessary at the time -  _ who exactly was Judy going to tell? _ But she’d been warned how people are  _judgmental_ and  _ wouldn’t understand _ .

“We have a ghost,” she finally answered.

Jen rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Judy protested. “It hides in the closet mostly, but when it comes out it annoys everyone, and Paul gets really mad.” She almost scared herself with the ounce of truth hidden in there. Luckily for her, Jen didn’t seem to notice.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” she said, twisting a hairband around the end of the second braid.

“Just because  _ you _ haven’t seen one.” When she turned her head around, there was a grin on her face and a playful glint in her eye. It worked - Jen couldn’t quite tell if she was joking, but she didn’t say anything else as Judy ran her hands over her own head in amazement.

“I love them!” Her smile was wide and completely genuine as she pulled Jen into a hug. It was unexpected, but soft and comfortable - better than most hugs as far as Jen was concerned. 

“They look good on you.” She pulled Judy over to the side so she could see her reflection in the water. A dingy green, slightly distorted but impossibly delighted girl stared back. 

It would have seemed silly if she said it out loud, but this was really all Judy ever wanted. Maybe she could finally have a friend - a  _ real  _ friend who would braid her hair and give her hugs. She didn’t even mind when her mom told her she looked bald and pulled one of the braids out later.  _ Jen _ liked them, and that was all that really mattered.

-

The next time Jen appeared at the top of the bank she’d paired a black leotard with her shorts, rather than one of her usual tank tops. She’d gone straight from the car - much to her mom’s annoyance - and was more excited to see Judy than she would have ever admitted. She could feel the sun hot on her back as she ran down, glad to join her in the shade.

“ _ Now _ you look like a ballerina,” Judy smiled, admiring the neat little bun on the top of her head. Jen grinned, doing a little twirl before she flopped onto the ground beside her. 

“I can do yours, if you like?” she offered, watching her friend’s whole face brighten just as it had the day before. “It’ll be a bit messy, probably,” she warned. “I don’t have a brush.” 

Judy didn’t mind at all. She felt like a princess with her hair up, staring into her reflection in the water with delight. Jen’s idea of messy was still the prettiest her hair had ever been, except for maybe the french braids from the day before.

“Now  _ you _ look like a ballerina too.” Jen grinned. It was impossible to not feel better with Judy around - the way she looked at everything with such wonder and excitement made all those things seem just a little brighter in reality.

“I don’t know.” She stood up and stretched out her arms to really show off her long tunic-style top and the usual rolled-up jeans. Jen had an idea. 

“Do you have a belt?” she asked, springing up beside her. Judy nodded, letting Jen hold her top up and untie it from around her jeans. It was a rope belt - stolen by her mom off a dress in a thrift store when she’d complained too loudly about none of her jeans fitting. It wasn’t great for holding up pants since you had to tie it, but it was perfect for Jen's plan.

She pulled it around her large top at her waist, tying a floppy bow at the front before helping her pull off the thick denim underneath.

“I don’t know how you wear these in this heat,” Jen told her. Judy said nothing as she stepped out of the jeans. Explaining that her wardrobe could only consist of a few items she was constantly  _ growing into  _ was something she didn’t quite know how to do.

That stopped mattering the second she slid her shoes back on and stood up, though. She felt like Cinderella - her once-dull top transformed into this beautiful summer dress that landed just above her knee. She twirled around admiring it, stepping clumsily in a circle with her arms held above her head once she remembered her  _ ballet hair _ too.

“I’ll show you some actual moves.” Jen grabbed her arm with a grin. Judy’s eyes grew wide with pure excitement. She could barely even believe that Jen wanted to hang out with her, and now she was teaching her  _ real life ballet _ .

They moved right down to the edge of the river, where the ground was mostly gravel and mud but made for a flatter surface to dance on. Most of the trees on this side were short and half-dead. They were useless to shield them from the late afternoon sun - slowly baking the backs of their necks and their arms - but for the first time since she’d first arrived, Jen didn’t notice it so much.

Jen showed her how to hold her hands so they’d look more graceful, and how to take a few steps into a pirouette. Judy tried a few, laughing each time she toppled over sideways but loving it just as much as if she were performing solos on a huge stage.

“Come on, like this.” Jen went again, this time using Judy’s face as an impromptu spot and managing a double before her foot slipped in the mud. 

“You’re so good,” Judy’s mouth had dropped wide open. 

Jen scoffed. “Tell that to my new teacher.”

"Why?" she asked. Sure, she didn’t know much about dance - or anything, really - but even she could tell that Jen was  _ really good _ .

"Oh, she just hates me cause I started the program late," Jen explained, "which wasn't even my fault. It was my parents messing up our moving date." She gave an indignant little sigh.

"I'm sorry." Judy's concern made her smile.

"It's okay," she assured her. "It's just not as fun as it was in New York." Judy was listening intently, so she continued. "I used to get all the solos in recitals. Well, me and Nicole both would. And I was supposed to start pointe this year, even though I'm technically too young." She said it as if Judy should be impressed - which, of course, she was.

"It sounds so cool." Her eyes were wide with that kind of amazement Jen was quickly becoming familiar with. In someone else it might have seemed overly dramatic, she was quickly learning that this was just how Judy was. She liked it - her optimism was the breath of fresh air that Jen so desperately needed in this furnace of a city.

"It was." Jen sighed, sitting back down in the grass. Following her lead, Judy flopped down beside her to listen.

"But now I can't, cause apparently my  _ technique's not there yet _ ." Jen rolled her eyes, putting on a high pitched, snooty voice that resembled her new teacher pretty well and made Judy giggle.

More than being top of the class and dancing solos, Jen missed her friends. Especially Nicole. They'd been dancing together since they were toddlers - always insanely competitive, but that was what made their friendship so great. They would do everything together, and since they were both so talkative they'd always have plenty of other friends around them too.

This new studio technically had better training than her last one - another attempt by her parents to  _ make it up to her _ \- but most of her excitement about that had dried up the moment she realized how competitive things were there. She could practically feel the judgement oozing out of everyone in the room. It was like they were just waiting for each other to mess up, constantly trying to prove who was the best, and worrying about what they all thought of her didn't exactly help her dancing. Half the time she was so stuck in her own head that she'd mess up basic steps or forget what she was doing - not exactly a recipe for success in a difficult new program.

Jen didn't say any of that. For some reason, it would be too embarrassing to admit to Judy that she was basically her only friend now - even though they were both clearly in the same predicament. 

Jen was used to being popular. She'd never been without a large bubble of friends, and she didn't like this new feeling. She hated the awkward silences in breaks, and getting scared every time they had to pair up for something. Most of all, she hated being  _ unknown _ . She'd seen the kinds of kids in school who stayed silent in the hallways and ate lunch alone - that wasn't  _ her _ . Except maybe it was, now. Maybe this was just a side effect of picking up your life and moving to the worst place on Earth.

-

Another side effect of Los Angeles - Jen would soon discover - was the way her skin turned pink and sore when she ran from the car straight to see Judy, and didn't go home to change or put on sunscreen first.  _ Even the sun was out to get her _ .

She'd been dry and itchy all night, and heard constant little lectures from her mom about  _ being more careful  _ and  _ thinking things through _ . It was a good thing she didn't have dance for a few days, because she couldn't go in front of those girls looking like a clown. She felt a little silly just here with Judy. At least her t-shirt hid her back, where pale white lines criss-crossed over her skin in the shape of her leotard’s straps and honestly made her look  _ ridiculous _ .

"You wanna find somewhere in the shade today?" Judy offered with a sympathetic smile. Jen looked around them doubtfully - their side of the bank was already baked in sunlight and she knew it would only get warmer.

"Come on." Judy led her over the log bridge and through the trees and shrubs on the other side - mostly spiny with parched leaves - to a pair of trees right by the edge of the water. They were taller than most of the others nearby and had plenty of low branches. In other words, they were  _ perfect  _ for climbing.

Judy started first, but as she lifted her leg for a tall step up to the first branch, her doll slipped out of the large pocket that had become her new home, the pearl landing softly beside it on the ground. She felt her face turning pink as she reached down and shoved them back in. Her eyes remained focused on the tree trunk as she prayed that somehow Jen hadn't noticed.

Of course she noticed. She'd actually spotted some threads of hair sticking out the pocket before they even started climbing, but her judgement from their first meeting was nowhere to be found. Sure, it would be easy to poke fun, or talk behind her back - assuming she could find another person to talk to - but that would just feel strange now she was getting to know Judy better. 

She wasn't like the other kids Jen knew. She wasn't loud or gossipy - didn't stand a chance of being popular in school - but she seemed so happy just doing her own thing. Judy was clearly a little embarrassed, but Jen smiled at her through the leaves as they both climbed.

"You were playing with that doll the day we first met, right?" she asked as she finally chose a branch to sit on that was decently comfortable.

Judy nodded reluctantly.

"Does it have a name?" Jen's tone came as a surprise - she seemed more interested than she was mocking, something Judy wasn't used to hearing  _ at all _ . Even her mom was sick of  _ that disgusting old rag _ . 

"She's Dolly," she explained, settling on a branch around the same height as Jen's and pulling her out her pocket again.

"That's… creative."

Judy laughed. "I came up with it when I was a baby," she explained. "It kind of stuck."

"So what were you playing?"

"That day?" Judy paused. She never shared her imaginary games with anyone _ , ever _ , but there was something about Jen that felt so open - something telling her that maybe this time it could be okay. 

"We were on a train. I was an opera singer, and she was my daughter," she explained. "That's sort of what I do all day - imagine things and act them out."

Jen couldn't help it - in some kind of weird way, she was impressed. She knew  _ she'd  _ get bored in thirty seconds flat if she was just alone with nothing to do but think.

"You must have a  _ huge _ imagination," she said, holding her arms out wide and almost falling out the tree just to demonstrate exactly how  _ huge  _ she was talking. "Bet you're good at writing stories."

"I'm okay." Judy tried to brush it off but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. English was her favorite class in school - besides art - and she  _ loved _ writing stories. 

"I'm terrible," Jen complained. "Last year we had to write a story in class - two whole pages in thirty minutes - and I couldn't think of a single thing to write." Her teacher had said she was just  _ being difficult _ , and made her stay in at lunch until she'd dragged out some nonsense story. She wasn't even trying to be difficult, she just couldn't think of a single thing worth writing about.

"That sucks." Judy tried to be sympathetic, although she couldn't even begin to imagine her mind being blank like that. She was so used to having stories playing out in her head constantly.

"Yeah." Jen agreed. She snapped off a thin branch from the tree above her, waving it through the air absent-mindedly. “So you just stay out here and daydream all day?” 

“Not always.” Judy wasn’t sure Jen would understand - she rarely  _ needed _ to do anything else. The insides of her head were generally more interesting than whatever she could be doing in reality. “We could swing,” she continued, gazing up at the sky through mostly-bare branches. “We could go swimming… if you weren’t too scared to go in the river.”

“I’m not  _ scared _ .” Jen protested. She punctuated that last word with a gentle poke, her stick meeting Judy’s side and making her laugh. “And it’s a  _ creek _ ,” she added with another soft jab for good measure. 

“Well, what if I think it’s an  _ ocean _ ?” Her eyes were alight with imagination as she turned back to face Jen. She snapped off a branch above her head and held it up towards her friend. “And we’re pirates on ships - deadly enemies - and you’ve just sailed into my waters.” She raised her eyebrows, daring Jen to join her. Her words hung in the warm air for a moment, neither of them sure what to do, until-

“They’re my waters now.” A grin spread across Jen’s face as she held her stick up to meet Judy’s. She wasn’t really sure why she played along. She hadn’t played  _ make believe _ or anything like this in years, and she certainly wouldn’t have with anyone else. But here with Judy there was no judgement, no worries about acting their age. It was just fun - as simple as that - and nothing outside their trees had to matter.

"Now, I only see one way to settle this." Judy put on a deep voice as she looked Jen up and down, sizing her up. "A fight to the death!" 

She squealed and suddenly they were off - their sticks in a vicious sword fight, the harsh sound of wood crashing together only masked by their shrieks of laughter as they clung onto the branches around them for dear life.

Judy could feel her whole insides glowing. She never shared her imagination with anyone - even her own mother said her games were  _ crazy _ and she needed to  _ grow up _ . But Jen wasn’t making fun of her. Jen was right in this magical world with her - poking her in the ribs and making her laugh - and from her perch up in the sky she felt like flying.

She must have let herself get too distracted by that feeling, or leaned over too far to make a jab at Jen, because she felt her legs slipping around the branches and the next thing she knew she was face down on the ground, her whole body aching.

Jen’s heart flew to her mouth as she watched her friend tumble and heard sobs escaping from underneath her. She instantly worried that they’d taken it too far - maybe  _ this  _ is why they weren’t supposed to play like little kids anymore. 

Relief only washed over her when Judy lifted her head up and she was laughing - maybe the most hysterically she’d ever laughed in her life.

“I win,” Jen said smugly, not wanting to let on that she’d been so worried.

“I’ll get you back tomorrow,” Judy grinned, rolling onto her back and pointing her stick up in the air at her.

“You can’t.” Jen’s face suddenly turned sullen. “We have plans. My mom wants you to come over.” 


	2. Leave the talkers talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sm for the sweet comments on the last post - I hope you're enjoying so far :)

“I'm proud of you, Jennifer.” The sound of her mom’s voice had made Jen roll her eyes, anxious to get out of the house and see Judy. 

“I know the move wasn't easy for you,” her mother continued, “but you're still making friends wherever you go.” Jen could have laughed at how wrong she was. She wondered what her mom would say if she could see her in dance, staying silent and drinking her water alone. Being popular was good -that’s what she’d always been taught - and being sociable and polite would help her  _ go far _ . 

“You're spending an awful lot of time with this girl.” She paused expectantly, but Jen still said nothing. “It'd be nice to get to know her better.”

Jen sighed. “There's nothing to know.”

“Well, I don't even know her name.”

“It's Judy,” she said bluntly, one hand clutching the front doorknob impatiently.

“Jennifer-”

She groaned and turned back around. 

“How did you meet this Judy?”

“At the river,” she answered, careful not to call it the  _ creek _ to prove a point to her mom. “She lives across the street.”

“Oh.” The older woman’s face fell, failing to hide the judgement that came with living  _ here _ . In truth, she’d already been put off by the girl’s clothes the first time she saw her on the banks. This only solidified things. “Well, it's very _good_ of you to befriend her.” 

Jen hated the way her mom said that - like Judy was some kind of charity case.

“Can I go now?” she asked.

“You should invite her over,” her mother decided. “Your father will be home early tomorrow. Ask her to come for dinner.”

“As if dad'll actually be home,” Jen muttered in reply, knowing it would annoy her mom. She didn’t care. She was far too concerned with being mad at her dad - the two of them had been close, back in New York, but everything changed the second they landed here and he started working non-stop. Now he was barely around, apparently not so worried about his family after he’d uprooted their whole lives for his dumb job.

“Will you ask her, Jennifer, please?” This was her mom at her most fake-charming, drawing out the  _ please _ as if Jen had a choice in the first place.

“Fine,” she sighed, already halfway out the door.

Although Jen was clearly unenthused, Judy's excitement was enough for the both of them. She'd never been invited over to a friend's house before, and obviously no one had ever come to hers. She didn't know what to expect. All she knew was that Jen had a nice family - the kind of mom who cared about meeting her friends and the kind of dad who had a stable job.  So, after another day spent mostly in the tree - plenty of time for Judy to get her back if she really wanted to - they found themselves heading inside earlier than usual. 

Jen's mom had told her to be home by five on the dot. By the time her new watch - more of a _hint_ than a _gift_ from her dear mother - read a quarter past she decided they'd better go before she came looking.

“Hi girls!” Jen’s mother could have jumped straight out of a commercial. Her smile was so wide it could have been plastic, but she somehow still managed to seem welcoming - to Judy, at least.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Judy." She stuck out her hand to shake, reminding her of Jen the day they first met. Jen's handshake had been quick and straightforward. Her mom's was firmer, more feminine, and almost flowery. 

"Jennifer's told me so much about you," she said, her voice thick with sweetness.

"Hi, Mrs-" she froze, realising just then that she didn't actually know Jen's last name. 

"Oh no, sweetheart. Call me Louise." She clasped Judy's hand between both of her before she finally let it go.

"Louise," Judy repeated softly with a little nod.

The woman in front of her stepped back, not bothering to hide her exasperated sigh as she took in Judy's appearance.

"Is  _ this _ what you kids think is cool nowadays?" She raised her eyebrows. Judy didn't know what to say. She looked down, fiddling nervously with her sleeve. She'd considered wearing her longer top as a dress for Jen's house - tried it on in front of the mirror that morning - but it looked a little too makeshift, and she couldn't tie a bow as nicely as Jen had. So she'd stuck to her usual top and jeans, something she was obviously regretting now.

Luckily, Jen interrupted before Judy had to think of some kind of explanation.

"Is Dad home yet?" Her mother sighed.

"I'm sorry love." Jen felt her mom's hand stroking the back of her head affectionately and quickly shook it off. "He had an emergency at work. He'll probably be there for a few more hours."

Jen stared up at the ceiling. She should have known it was too good to be true. Come to think of it, she didn't even know you could have  _ emergencies _ in a boring old office.  _ What? Someone spilled coffee on their fancy suit jacket? _

"Told you," she muttered to Judy, grabbing her arm. "We'll be in my room," she told her mother bluntly. Judy let herself be pulled toward the back of the house as an indignant voice called out behind them.

"Dinner's ready in half an hour Jen-'"

Jen slammed her bedroom door behind them, muffling the  _ -iffer _ that still made her skin crawl a little every time she heard it.

"Is your mom the only one who calls you that?" Judy asked with a smile. The name didn't seem to suit her friend at all.

"Yep." Jen rolled her eyes, flopping down onto her messily made bed. "I've tried to stop her. She says it's more  _ ladylike _ ." She mimed throwing up as she said it, making Judy laugh. 

"Sorry this place is such a dump." She scooched up so Judy could sit on the foot of the bed. She did, perching kind of awkwardly. The whole house felt strange - much neater and more put-together than her own but still much more complicated than when they were outdoors.

"It's fine," Judy assured her, looking down at the clothes strewn all over the floor. Jen had given up on trying to make things look  _ nice _ the second she saw the place. The light in her new room was dim and yellow, the walls an ugly shade of cream. There was one small window that only offered a view of the house next door's wall. She kept it constantly propped open, as if an occasional breeze could make up for the  _ inhuman _ lack of air conditioning in this glorified oven of a house. 

She never realized how much she'd miss her old room in Brooklyn. Her dad had decorated it with her a few birthdays ago, with little ballerinas on the wallpaper, her own double bed, and one of those nets above it that made her feel like a princess.

"Your mom's nice," Judy finally said, breaking the silence. Jen snorted, but when she looked up at her friend's face she realized she was serious.

"She's okay," she shrugged. "She makes good tea - she grew up in South Carolina." Judy laughed, knowing that was probably honestly the best thing Jen could think of.

"My dad's cooler," she explained. "Well, he used to be. Now all he does is work."

"That sucks," Judy replied with a knowing smile. She wondered if it felt similar - having a dad who's always gone because he's _working_ and just having a dad who's always gone.

"Yep," Jen nodded. "Packs up his whole family and dumps us on the other side of the country - for  _ his _ career - and he can't even be bothered to show up for dinner."

"What's his job?" 

Jen paused for a second.  "Something in business," she replied, neither of them really knowing what that meant. Jen had gone into his office back in New York - seen his desk and eaten lunch in the cafeteria - but she still couldn't tell much except everyone there wore suits and dealt with a  _ lot _ of money.

Judy tried her hardest to be understanding. She managed it, at least on the outside, she was sympathetic and she could tell Jen appreciated it. On the inside, however, she felt a little in awe the whole time. She couldn't imagine having a family like Jen's and complaining. Not that she didn't love her mom - she did, with all her heart - but she wished she could be around more. She wished she would make tea, or dinner, or anything for that matter. She wished she noticed where Judy went enough for it to get annoying, asking about her friends and demanding to meet them. She knew she'd never get sick of it the way Jen did, even if her mom was on her back every second of the day - _ that's what moms were meant to do, right? _

It only took around fifteen minutes for Jen's mother to interject herself once more. This time she appeared in the doorway wielding a tray of sweet tea - something of a rarity in a house that was usually strict on  _ we only eat and drink in the kitchen _ , but this was her attempt at a peace offering to make up for her husband's absence. Judy smiled as she took a sip. 

Jen had been right about the tea. It  _ was _ good - perfectly sweet and exactly the kind of icy cool that could counteract a stuffy bedroom, at least momentarily. Jen especially needed it, gulping down a whole glass in a matter of seconds and refilling it immediately. It felt like her insides were freezing which, while uncomfortable, was by far an improvement on their usual sweltering heat.

"Jennifer, you have a guest!" her mother protested at the sight of such  _ unladylike _ behavior. Jen rolled her eyes and Judy looked up in surprise, wondering if her presence really warranted politeness. This was already so far from her regular home life - she couldn't be sure what to expect.

In the end she kept up with their small talk over dinner just fine. She probably came off as a little shy - she always did around adults - but she was learning that both Jen and her mother could easily carry a conversation that focused mostly on themselves. Judy didn't mind at all - it was a whole lot nicer to hear about their old life in Brooklyn and their house hunting than it would be to answer questions about herself. This way she didn’t have to constantly worry about saying the wrong thing.

She must have done something right, because in spite of her appearance, and the fact that she lived in  _ this _ neighborhood, Jen's mom decided this mild-mannered girl must be a good influence. She didn’t seem to mind them hanging out every day, which was a good thing because Jen would have done that whether her mom approved or not.

After that, they settled into a routine so easily they barely even noticed it. Of course they spent every day together, because there weren't any other options even if they wanted them. The time blended together, only Jen's dance classes differentiating some days from others.  They did make occasional visits to Jen's house, when the heat became too sweltering and their need for icy tea made her mother's presence worth it. Mostly, though, they just stayed on the bank. 

Those two trees became  _ their spot _ \- they could find a perch and while away their days in one daydream or another. Sometimes they'd go back to the swing and take it in turns to fly through the air. There was even one time they both climbed on, each sat on one side of the tyre with their legs crossed together, until they realized it was nearly impossible to actually  _ swing _ like that. Jen still didn't want to swim, so Judy wouldn't either, but when they sat by the edge she'd dip her toes in the water. Whatever they did, it didn't really seem to matter. Anything they missed out would be waiting for them tomorrow, and every day after that. 

That was the thing about being a kid in summer - they knew eventually their cycle would be broken and they'd have school and other things to worry about. But for those first few weeks the ending was too far away to even think about. They could just sit in trees and talk for hours, sunlight scattered across their faces, and assume it would go on like that forever.

-

The day Jen arrived home from dance with two other girls on their bikes, Judy’s heart sunk. She should have known this would happen. Jen was far too cool, and too normal, to not end up being popular eventually. Judy had known it was only a matter of time before she found other friends - better friends. She tried to just be happy for her. It was better for Jen to have more people to hang out with, especially if they were dancers, as talented and interesting as she was. It was only natural. 

Judy wasn’t the kind of person who really made friends. She didn’t keep them, anyway. It wasn’t for lack of trying - if anything, she tried  _ too _ hard, going out of her way for people and thinking of the kindest things to do when all they cared about was fitting in. It hadn’t gone so well in the past, but that was okay. She was used to it. By the time that summer rolled around, she didn’t mind spending her time alone at all. Her own imagination and the fun she had by the river beat friends any day. 

At least, all that had been true until she’d met Jen.  She’d seen just a little of what she was missing, and spending their summer together was maybe the happiest she’d ever been. So now that the two girls in ballet buns had arrived - an unwelcome reminder of the inevitable - she felt a strange sadness churning through her stomach. 

“Hey, Judy!” Jen climbed off her bike and let it clatter to the ground on the sidewalk as she waved her over. Judy sighed. She ran up the bank and between the houses to meet her, the whole time wishing Jen could have just come back alone like she usually did.

“Hi.” She greeted them with a small smile, hands shoved in her pockets and turning her pearl over and over in her fingers. 

“Judy, this is Jeanette and Emily,” Jen said excitedly as she pulled Judy into their little group.

“Hi,” Judy repeated. They were both a little taller than her, and both in shorts and leotards like Jen. She couldn’t help feeling out of place, suddenly very aware of her tattered old sneakers and the rag doll shoved into her pocket.

None of them explained that they already knew each other, sort of. They were in the same grade as Judy but in the other class, only meeting during recess and gym. She couldn’t remember ever speaking to them, but she’d seen their group at lunch. They’d whisper when she sat near them - alone, of course - and one of the girls they sat with had said her hair was too messy and yanked on it when they were in the class assembly.

“I didn’t know you lived round here.” Judy couldn’t tell how much of Jeanette’s voice was friendly and how much was that familiar blend of disdain and pity. She shifted her weight, only nodding in response. 

Jen furrowed her brow as she watched Judy talking to her friends - or rather, barely speaking a word. She was like a different person here, trading the usual excitement behind her eyes for an anxious smile as she hurriedly brushed her bangs to the sides of her face. 

“Come on, we’re going to the movie theater.” She grabbed Judy’s hand, partly to get her attention and partly to try and cheer her up from whatever was wrong.

“I can’t,” Judy told her. “I don't have enough for a ticket.” Jen’s face fell, annoyed with herself for not thinking of that sooner.

“Spent all your allowance already?” Emily asked her with a knowing smile. Judy shook her head.

“I don’t get an allowance.” The girls did nothing to hide their confusion at that. She supposed they’d never had to contemplate a summer without endless trips to the mall or the movie theater in between expensive dance classes. 

“Your mom must be mean,” Jeanette told her. She was trying to be sympathetic, but that hurt even more. Judy knew her mom wasn’t _ mean _ . They didn’t have a lot of money to spare but her mom always told her how hard she was trying to keep a job down and how the world wasn’t easy for  _ people like her _ . Even when she’d go out late or not come home in the morning, it was all because she was so tired from working so hard - all for Judy. That’s what she’d say when Judy made her toast and got her a glass of water before school.

“I’ll buy yours,” Jen offered, putting a hand on her shoulder softly. Judy shook her head automatically. That was another thing her mom always said - they weren’t  _ charity cases _ . 

“No, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “I have to go.” Jen raised her eyebrows. Not once all summer had Judy needed to  _ go _ anywhere. She certainly didn’t have anyone else to make plans with. 

“I have to… help my mom with something,” Judy explained, already backing away from the group. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She could feel them all watching her as she ran across the street and back to her own house but she didn’t care. All she needed was to get out of there. 

As it turned out, Jeanette  _ didn’t feel like _ going to a movie, and Jen said she didn’t mind, so they ended up shopping instead. Jen hadn’t seen their nearest mall yet, and she was surprised by how nice it was. It had been reopened a few years earlier, the girls told her, after this big renovation. It was all outdoors, with a few streets of stores and a huge fountain in the middle. 

Jen was usually more of an Old Navy girl - her mom would take her at the start of every school year and after that she’d only worry about wanting cute dance clothes - but Jeanette and Emily headed straight for their favorite smaller stores. They had more  _ teen _ clothes and less sweaters with puppies on them, and Jen had to admit it felt pretty cool.

They tried on an armful of clothes each - nothing that Jen liked enough to buy, but she did have fun helping Jeanette pick out a new jacket and trying on all the different sunglasses that made her feel like a movie star.

“We should get some for Judy,” Emily said through giggles. Jen turned around to see her holding up the largest pair of jeans on the rack - long enough to nearly reach up to her shoulders. Jeanette laughed, and Jen figured she’d better laugh too.

“I’m sorry she didn’t come,” she said, a little confused when they both reacted like she’d said something funny.

“It’s not the worst thing,” Jeanette whispered to her as if they were sharing in some exciting secret. “I didn’t even know she could speak until today.”

“Right.” Jen forced herself to smile back. “She just lives on my street,” she explained, wondering if it had been weird to invite her at all.

“Unlucky.” Emily gave her a sympathetic smile that turned into more of a snicker when Jeanette grabbed her arm.

Jen just gave them a nervous laugh in return. It hadn’t even crossed her mind until then, but she suddenly wondered if Judy had been holding her back. Maybe Jeanette and Emily were more the kind of girls she _ should _ be hanging out with. They were finally opening up to her in class, chatting during breaks, and she couldn’t help being excited about that. It felt better, talking to them and going to the mall, like she was getting a bit of her old self back.

They seemed like the kind of girls she’d be friends with in Brooklyn - the kind her mom would be happy to meet and who’d have a large group of people to talk to in school. Shopping wasn’t as much fun as she’d normally have with Judy, but she figured she probably just needed to get to know them better. Wandering through the different stores with them finally made her feel  _ normal _ , at least, and it was nice not to worry about being too weird or babyish. She couldn’t tell if it was just the harsh air con inside each store, but it felt like her first breath of fresh air in weeks.

-

Judy was relieved to find her house empty when she got inside, leaning back against the door with a sigh. There weren’t usually adults around by this time in the afternoon, which was good because the last thing she wanted to do was get in anyone else’s way. 

That short conversation with Jen’s new friends was already replaying itself in her mind. She already hated it - every awkward moment, the way she’d felt ridiculous next to those girls, the way she hadn’t known what she was meant to say, the way she’d run away like a scared little kid, and probably embarrassed Jen. Most of all she hated the way she’d let herself hope that Jen would be different.  _ Why _ would she be different? Why would  _ Jen _ of all people want to climb a tree and talk about her weird imagination when she could just be normal and have fun with everyone else?

Judy could feel the thoughts overwhelming her, the replays getting faster and faster. She locked herself in the bathroom - something of an automatic response for when she felt that prickling behind her eyes and knew no one wanted to deal with a  _ stupid sobbing baby _ . Her hand reached into her pocket and she squeezed her pearl, letting the cold stone press into her palm.

In the bright light her face looked even redder. The room was small and her unavoidable reflection stared back at her like a slap in the face. She hated the way she looked so young compared to the other girls. She hated her clothes - so baggy and hot that they made her look strange all summer. She hated the way her bangs looked messy and fell into her eyes unless she constantly shoved them out of the way. 

Her face scrunched up tight, desperately trying to stop the tears from falling as it only got puffier and more pathetic. She clawed her hands through her hair, grasping onto her scalp as if she could just want it badly enough and she’d walk out that room looking pretty and popular and everything could be fine. 

After that, she gave up. She let herself cry, curled up on the ground with her back against the door, and sobbed until her whole face got so clogged up that she needed to blow her nose on toilet paper just to keep breathing.

It bothered her how she let herself get so upset over the smallest conversation. Maybe her mom was right - she was just a little  _ cry baby _ who needed to grow up. It was so much more than going to the movies, though. For a few weeks there, she and Jen had been in their own little world. Now, this was a painful reminder that none of that could really last. Jen was still living in the real world, making other friends and doing  _ normal  _ things with them, and that left Judy all alone.

-

That night, Jen couldn’t sleep. She rolled over and over, trying to forget the feeling of sweat damp on her face and pajamas smothering her. It didn’t help that her mind was reeling, too. She found herself whispering her thoughts out loud, trying to explain everything and picturing Judy right there to listen. That was something she’d started doing more and more - talking to herself on her own but saying all the words to Judy.

They’d become so used to each other that, even when Judy was gone, it  _ felt _ like she was always there. At night, Jen would often rest her head on a teddy bear shoulder and quietly rattle through whatever happened to be on her mind, as if her friend was really beside her. Imaginary Judy had heard a lot about the girls at dance - the ones who were starting to be nicer and talk to her, the ones who weren’t, and the ones with crazily competitive parents who weren’t nice to anyone. She also got plenty of the things Jen missed about Brooklyn, all the things she wanted to do in her life, and of course how  _ unbelievably boiling _ it got in her room at night.

She’d talk the most on nights when she could hear shouting in the street - in some weird way it felt like she was comforting the real Judy when she told the stale night air she hoped things were okay. Part of her felt stupid for worrying when she couldn’t know for sure it was even Judy’s house the shouting was coming from. Still, it wasn’t too hard to guess.

The first time they’d heard it, she’d sat by the window with her parents and watched Paul on the porch. The second time, her mother sent her to bed and told her to stop  _ gawking _ , and after that she didn’t bother looking when she was meant to be asleep. She didn’t need to look - it always sounded the same. Loud male complaints, voices raised louder and louder and then silence. Jen didn’t know if it really happened, but she always pictured them kissing once it went silent, like they had the first time she watched. It wasn’t like when her parents kissed, or the kids in her grade at the school dance. Their kiss had been more energetic - like the parts in movies when her mom would cover her eyes.

Judy never wanted to talk about those nights. Not that Jen really did either, but the one time she brought it up Judy had acted like she had no clue what she was even talking about. They didn’t happen that often - maybe once every week or two - and they weren’t all as loud as that first night. Still, if Jen could hear there was no way Judy had slept through it. She started to wonder if Judy really did have a ghost. Ghosts still weren’t  _ real _ , but she knew so little about Judy's family that almost anything could be possible.

Jen rolled over again to check her clock. The neon green glow told her it was past midnight already. That night, there wasn't shouting keeping her up. The overwhelming silence was almost worse - a constant reminder of how loud her thoughts were in comparison. There was this guilt stewing inside her, and a thousand different things to think about. 

What started as excitement to have new friends quickly turned into questioning whether she could spend time with them at all. First off, she didn’t love the idea of spending more time shopping. Especially after she’d got home and her mom asked how the movie was, and she remembered how excited she'd been to see it.  More than that, though, she knew what they’d all been saying behind Judy’s back was mean. It had felt fun at the time, maybe even cool, but Judy wasn’t  _ annoying _ or  _ silent _ like they said, and she didn’t deserve that. 

Jen just didn’t know what she was meant to do. Part of her wished she’d defended Judy. She knew that wouldn’t stop them, though, and they’d probably just think the same bad things about her if she marked herself as Judy’s best friend. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted their approval anymore. They could be saying all kinds of things behind _her_ back, too, and she’d never know.

That’s when Jen decided, even if she couldn’t tell them to their faces, she didn’t have to be their friend. Judy was more fun to hang out with anyway. She whispered an apology to the imaginary Judy for all the things she’d done that day, and all the things they’d said that she could never admit in real life, for Judy’s sake as much as her own.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper felt so pathetic as she imagined it floating through the air. She hoped some glimmer of it might reach her sleeping friend. 

“You’re my best friend,” she added softly. Jen had never said that before. She’d never even considered that the people important to her wouldn’t be stuck on the other side of the country forever, but she knew right then that it was true.

Jen had never trusted anyone like Judy before. Even Nicole - they shared so much but she still worried what she’d think of her, and was always trying to make sure she still liked her. She didn’t have to think about any of that with Judy, not for a single second. They just… existed, saying or doing whatever popped into their minds, and somehow it all worked out just fine.

-

The next morning, Jen appeared at the top of the bank earlier than usual, even for a day without dance. Judy was still there waiting. She briefly wondered exactly how early Judy woke up and how fast she must eat breakfast each morning - whenever Jen showed up, aside from that first day, she was always right there. 

Judy caught sight of her, running down the bank with her ponytail swinging from side to side, and couldn’t hide the delighted surprise painted across her own face. She’d half expected Jen to never come back, or to constantly be accompanied by a gaggle of friends from then on, like all the other kids in school were.

There was a hint of something different between them - something left over from the day before. They both felt it as Judy stood up and Jen planted her feet in front of her. A moment of silence passed before Jen remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

“D’you wanna go to the movie theater today?” she asked, hands digging into her pockets.

“Again?” Judy scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion.

“We didn’t go yesterday,” she explained. “They wanted to go to the mall instead.” Her sullen expression made her disappointment pretty obvious.

“Are Jeanette and Emily coming?” Judy asked her. She wondered if this was how it would be now - trading their trees and river for the sorts of things  _ normal _ kids did.

“Nope.” Jen shook her head. “Just us.” She stuck out her bottom lip a little as she smiled - the closest she’d get to a silent apology for the things she’d said and felt the day before. 

“Really?” Suddenly Judy’s eyes were wide with a mix of confusion and the little hope that she couldn’t help feeling. 

“Yeah.” Jen grinned. “And I know you don’t get an allowance,” she continued before Judy could protest, “but I can buy the tickets.”

Judy shoved a hand in her pocket and shook her head. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, rolling the pearl nervously between her fingers. 

“I know.” Jen shrugged like it was nothing. “I always save my allowance. It’s fine.” She’d barely spent any of her own money since she got to LA. Here, there were no more ice cream scoops with Nicole or pretty gel pens for school. By that point she was quite proud of the amount she’d saved up - more than she’d ever managed before - but she didn’t mind sharing it with Judy at all.

“I don’t know,” Judy replied, shifting her weight from one side to the other. She  _ wanted _ to go - she desperately wanted to be a good friend - but her mom’s words echoed in her mind.  _ We don’t need handouts, _ she’d say.  _ No one likes a freeloader _ .

“Come on.” Jen reached a hand to her shoulder, snapping her out of her own thoughts. “It’s not like I’m buying you a diamond. I just want to watch a movie with my best friend.”

They both stopped, locking eyes for a second. That was the first time either of them had said it -  _ best friend _ . That had to be important, right?

Judy’s expression softened, and her eyes lit up with that wonder that had become so familiar since they first met. She’d never had a best friend before. She’d barely even managed a  _ friend _ . She couldn’t even try to hide the smile that broke across her face, so wide that her cheeks wrinkled a little at the sides. 

“Okay,” she finally agreed.

“Good.” Jen grinned. She knew she’d be able to convince her. “We’ll have to get there by three. We can bike over and get milkshakes and popcorn before the start?” She posed it as a question as if she hadn’t already planned everything out for them, but Judy’s face fell as she realized yet another reason why she couldn’t go.

“I don’t have a bike,” she said, worrying that she’d ruined everything  _ again _ .

That one stumped Jen for a moment. She  _ really _ didn’t want to have to ask her mom to drive them. She knew she’d just get complaints about waiting in the car for  _ hours _ and  _ we bought you a bike so you could be more independent _ and  _ don’t the other girls at dance go to the mall by themselves? _ Luckily, she had a better idea.

By the time that afternoon rolled around she’d dug out the old picnic rug from the boxes in her garage and fixed it onto her bike. She had a little shelf over the back wheel - something her dad had put on around a year earlier for her dance bag - which she figured could make a decent seat with a little padding.

Maybe Judy wasn’t sold on the idea  _ instantly _ , but she agreed to give it a try and clambered on clumsily. It took a couple of tries to figure out how to start off without toppling over to the side - Judy had never ridden a bike before, let alone tried to share one - but after they were going the rest felt easy.

Judy clung on tight to her waist as they sped past the rows and rows of near identical houses. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride in the world - not by a long shot - but it seemed so  _ exciting _ that neither of them minded. For Judy, it basically felt like flying back there with the wind in her face and bangs blowing into her eyes. She was being pulled through the air so easily, like a swing without the constant stomach drops, and she  _ loved _ it. 

Jen couldn’t complain either. She finally got to see her movie, hang out more with Judy,  _ and _ she was doing something her mother would definitely say was too dangerous. It was perfect.


	3. Some things fall away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw - domestic violence for this chapter

“So, now that we’re  _ best friends _ ,” Jen placed emphasis on their new title, as if it made any difference when they’d each already spent a month hanging out pretty much exclusively with the other. “We need to swap secrets.”

Judy paused where she was - lying back in the tree, propped up by a few different branches - and stopped swinging Dolly through the air above her. The rag doll fell limp against her outstretched arm.

“Hmm?” She lifted her head from the branch it had been resting on to look at her. Jen was still lying back lazily, her branch a little lower than Judy’s, with bright sunlight scattered by leaves across her face.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asked, sitting up straight and letting her legs dangle beneath her perch. Judy nodded.

“You have to swear not to tell anyone,” Jen warned. “Cross your heart?”

“What?” Judy looked at her, confused. She pulled herself up so she was sitting on her branch, facing Jen.

“Cross your heart?” she repeated, only to be met by Judy’s clueless expression. She wondered if maybe crossing your heart hadn’t made it out to the kids in California yet. It wasn’t really a New York thing, though. It was just a  _ thing _ .

She demonstrated, drawing a small cross over her chest with her right index finger and saying “cross your heart, hope to die,” her face solemn. “That means if you tell the secret, you die,” she added.

“Okay.” Judy mirrored her serious expression.

“So will you do it?” Jen asked her. Judy grinned a little as she nodded, she couldn't help it. Here she was with a  _ best friend _ who wanted to tell her a  _ secret _ \- that was a lot for her.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” she echoed Jen’s words, drawing an identical cross right over her heart.

“Okay, good.” Jen’s face lightened when she remembered she had an actual secret to tell. 

“I know one of the worst words  _ ever _ ,” she started with an almost wicked glimmer in her eye. “It’s so rude you can’t even  _ say _ it in public.”

After a pause for effect, she continued in barely more than a whisper.

“It’s called  _ fuck _ .”

Judy let her eyes grow wider. Of course she’d already heard the word before - Paul would yell it during arguments and her mom would whisper it under her breath when she lost her keys - but she decided to let Jen have this one. She was obviously far too excited about it for Judy to let her down now.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Judy whispered back and they both started giggling.

“What does it mean?” She asked, catching her breath between laughs. 

Jen’s brow furrowed as she paused for a second.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just really bad.” For some reason Judy found that the funniest thing -  _ this _ was Jen’s big secret and she didn’t even know what it meant. They both burst out laughing again, Judy throwing her head back and catching a glimpse of the empty sky through layers of branches and leaves. She only stopped when Jen cut in with-

“So what’s your secret?”

“What?” Judy’s head whipped back down to look at her.

“What’s your secret?” she repeated. Judy could feel herself starting to panic before she even needed to. It was instinct, at this point, to worry whenever someone wanted to know any more about her.

“I don’t have one.” She shrugged, trying to appear normal and almost managing it.

“Yes you do.”

Judy just shook her head, as if there was really nothing private she could think of. She hated lying. It shouldn’t have been hard anymore - she’d done it enough to teachers and other kids and even some of their parents - but Jen was her  _ best friend _ . She didn't want to ruin that over a stupid lie.

“That’s not fair,” Jen complained, using the same kind of whine she would to convince her mom to buy her a new leotard when she didn't really need it. “I told you mine, and it was a really good one.” 

Judy sighed.

“Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” She drew a cross over her heart and Judy knew she wouldn’t let it go. She wracked her brain. How do you choose a secret to tell a best friend? How do you pick something secret enough to be  _ a secret _ , but not the kind of thing her mom warned her about? She knew things that could get them in  _ trouble _ , or get her mom  _ taken away _ . She wasn’t sure they really did that - took moms away - or who  _ they  _ were exactly, but she wasn’t sure enough to risk it.

“Okay,” she started nervously. “When I grow up, I’m not going to have a husband.”

Jen rolled her eyes, letting out an emphatic sigh.

“Boring,” she complained.

“That’s not the secret,” Judy protested, leaning over towards Jen so she could whisper it. She didn’t know if she really had the guts to say it until the words were already falling out of her mouth. “The secret is I’m going to have a wife.”

This time neither of them laughed. The silence was as dead as the dry air surrounding them. Judy could hear her own words echoing over and over in her head, already regretting them.

“You can’t have a wife.” Judy wondered if Jen, in all her dance classes and mall trips and family tea times, had ever even encountered the idea before. “You’re a girl.”

“I know.” She let out a little nervous laugh. “Girls can have wives.”

“No they can’t.” 

“They can,” Judy argued, suddenly defensive. “My Aunt Kathy did. They had a house, and they kissed, and everything.” 

She caught herself too late. She wanted to kick herself. She wasn’t supposed to talk about Aunt Kathy - not a real aunt, but one of her mom’s friends who, for a while, was the closest thing they had to a real family. She hadn’t seen her in years, not since they moved into Paul’s house, but when Judy was younger she’d go to her house in the afternoons. Kathy had the most colored pencils she’d ever seen. They were proper ones like  _ real artists _ had, but she let Judy use them and everything she drew came out so much prettier than with the crayons her mom would take when they came with the kids menus in diners. 

Sometimes her wife would come home early, and they’d always kiss when she did, but it wasn’t weird at all. Judy couldn’t remember her wife’s name, but always wore suits and had short hair and she looked  _ cool _ . They never argued or shouted like her mom did, and they always seemed so happy together. Judy knew she wanted a wife like that someday.

Jen was still staring at her, stumped by the whole idea of a  _ girl _ having a wife. Especially Judy, not just some random girl but her best friend, having one. It seemed nuts to Jen that she’d even thought that far ahead. Jen knew she wanted to be a dancer, and she wanted to get married someday, but she hadn’t really thought about  _ who _ he’d be. Her mom and dad hadn’t even met until they went to college. How was she supposed to know who she’d meet that far in the future anyway?

“You’re not gonna just walk into a church and have a wedding to another girl,” she protested. She’d been to plenty of weddings at her old church, and there’d never been anything like  _ that _ .

Judy sighed. “Well, not in a church,” she conceded. Jen wasn’t sure why that made any difference. You had to get married in a church. And you had to marry a  _ man _ . That was just how it worked. It was boys and girls who got married - on TV, in movies, in her family. Girls kissed  _ boys  _ at school dances. She’d never heard of it being any other way.

Jen asked her mom about it that night - having the sense to tell her she saw it on TV in case it was something bad - and she supposed it must have been. All her mother told her was that it was  _ highly inappropriate _ and  _ they'll show anything nowadays _ , giving a huffy little sigh to make it clear she wouldn’t discuss it any further.

Jen couldn’t help but wonder, though, as she lay awake that night. Wouldn’t it be weird for a girl to marry another girl? If  _ she _ married a girl, she knew that would feel strange. Well, it probably would. It was hard to imagine it enough to know how she’d feel for sure. Wouldn’t it be weird to  _ kiss _ a girl? Could two girls just buy a house like her parents had? Would they have kids? Who would go to work?

All that and a million more questions swirled around in her head. She wanted to figure it out a little more - maybe ask someone else - but she could tell from her mother’s reaction that it wasn’t the sort of thing she could really  _ ask _ about. So, for a while at least, she was just left wondering.

-

Another condition of being  _ official _ best friends now was that Jen wanted to go over to Judy’s house. Except she didn’t just want it, she demanded it. That’s what it felt like to Judy, at least. The first time she asked, it was easy enough to brush off. The second worried Judy a little, but she used her foot to splash river water up to where her friend was sitting. Jen squealed and, sure enough, forgot all about her house in favor of getting her back. That worked for a while - always changing the subject and hoping she would eventually just take the hint and  _ drop it _ , but weeks passed and Jen grew more and more impatient. She didn’t understand why Judy got so closed-up whenever they talked about it. Judy had been to  _ her _ house loads of times and, at the risk of sounding like her mother, wasn’t it supposed to be rude to not ask someone back?

In the end, it was a lazy afternoon - the kind when the scorching LA sun really  _ outdid itself _ \- that made the difference.

“I just… I thought we were best friends,” Jen complained into bone dry air. They were both lying in the thick grass - she’d finally embraced the danger of snakes in exchange for some desperately-needed shade - and she heard Judy roll over beside her. Jen shifted onto her side too, finding their faces close together on the ground. Their eyes met, separated only by a few blades of grass. 

Judy sighed. She could see Jen wasn’t playing around - maybe she never would drop it. But the thing that convinced her was the idea of upsetting her  _ best friend _ , or putting their friendship at risk. That was the last thing she wanted to happen. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Really?” Jen grabbed her arm in a mix of excitement and disbelief. Judy took another breath and made herself nod.

“Come on.” She pulled herself to her feet. It was late enough in the afternoon that she knew the house would be empty. It hadn’t even been much of a mess that morning - maybe it  _ would _ all be fine. She could just take Jen over, make sure she knew they were still perfectly fine as best friends, and get it over with.

The house wasn’t how Jen expected it to be. She could tell from the outside it was a little smaller than hers, but on the inside there was so much empty space. What little furniture there was looked old and tattered, with stray threads emerging from the couch that Judy would sometimes pick at when her mom couldn’t see. Jen was surprised to find the house empty, and realized right then that aside from the late night shouting, she barely knew anything about Judy’s family at all.

Judy wasn’t sure what to do next. She’d never been to anyone’s house except for Jen’s, and they didn’t make a habit of spending a lot of time there when they could avoid it. She was painfully aware of the fact there was no mom in  _ her _ house, waiting with sweet tea and asking about their day.

In the end, she pulled out her art supplies. They were pretty much the only things in her house that felt like  _ hers _ . She had a pack of felt tips Paul had bought her when they first moved in, a few old diner crayons, and the backs of old letters to draw on. They lay on their stomachs on Judy’s bed and drew for a while. 

She loved how impressed Jen was with her art. Drawing had always been something she loved, especially drawing people. She showed her a few of her old drawings, too - pictures of made-up families and babies and huge fancy houses. 

Judy was starting to properly have fun until - her eyes fluttered to the window as she felt her stomach plummet - the hatchback pulled up outside her house.

“Come on.” She grabbed Jen’s arm, pulling her towards the closet. “Let’s play ghosts.”

Jen could tell she was panicked about  _ something _ as they sat on the ground in between thick folds of fabric, but it didn’t make sense to her until they heard the two adults come in through the front door. Their voices were already raised. It was something about the night before - drinking too much and other people’s names Judy hadn’t heard before - but whatever had happened, Paul was mad.  _ Really _ mad.

They watched the fight with baited breath through the crack in the closet door, the door to Judy’s room hanging wide open. Jen remembered what Judy had said about having a ghost in her closet, back when they first met. She felt a bit like a ghost right there, accidentally spying as their argument got more and more heated until-

She gasped. Judy flinched. The slap rang out through the air as her mom held onto the wall to steady herself. There was a moment of pure, dead silence, before Paul shifted his attention towards the closet. 

Judy’s heart raced as she realized Jen’s gasp must have been too loud. But what was she supposed to do  _ now _ ? Her mom was scared, she could tell from just a glimpse through the crack, but she didn’t try to stop him. The few seconds it took him to reach the wooden doors felt like an eternity. She played through every possibility in her head, wracking her brain for  _ anything _ she could do to stop this from ending badly. Of course she came up empty. There was nothing to be done.

Her heart sunk as she watched him pull the door open on Jen’s side. Judy grabbed her hand instinctively - she’d never seen her friend freeze up like this. Jen squeezed her hand tight, wide eyes fixed on the man now towering over her.

“She’s got one of her little  _ friends _ here.” He spat the words back towards Judy’s mom.

“Hi.” Jen couldn’t hide the way her voice shook. Paul sighed through his frustration.

“Right, come on.” He grabbed her shoulder and her hand fell away from Judy’s as he pulled her roughly to her feet.

“Playdate’s over,” he sneered into her face, already dragging her out the room.

“Wait. Judy-”

Jen protested too late. Judy’s bedroom door was already locked behind them. His grip was too forceful and she wasn’t strong enough to stop him pulling her through the hallway and throwing her out the front door. She stumbled out onto the porch, feeling a slam behind her.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to pound on that door until she could see Judy again, just to know she was safe. But suddenly her shoulder was throbbing and her limbs were shaking and she couldn’t think. All she knew was that she needed to _get_ _out of there_. So she ran.

She felt so unsteady she could have fallen or collapsed at any moment, but she ran all the way past her house and down to the river like her life depended on it. She only stopped at the edge of the water, the toes of her sneakers just barely making a splash. 

Then she screamed - doubled over and screamed so loud it felt like her throat was tearing itself apart. She didn’t care. All of the anger and terror and confusion flew out of her and vanished into the trees. It was exactly what she needed. She screamed again, higher and louder until it left her breathless. She didn’t cry, not because she was trying to be strong or stop herself from crying, she just didn’t need to. She went from screaming to still in an instant, falling back to the ground as if her whole life had been pulled out from under her. She didn’t know what to think.

Why didn't Judy just tell her? But what was she even supposed to tell her? That her parents argued? Not just argued. They… fought like  _ that _ ? Jen wasn't sure she even knew  _ what _ she'd just witnessed. Was it always like that? Every time they shouted at night? And why was her house so empty? Why didn't Judy seem surprised at all? And  _ why did Jen suddenly feel so clueless about everything?  _

“Jen?”Judy found her like that, sitting on the ground and staring over the water into nothing. Her voice felt so weak, but it was enough to startle Jen out of her thoughts.

"Judy?" Jen's head snapped around to see her, but she didn't stand up. "Are you okay?"

Judy nodded and slowly sat down on the bank beside her. Now there were so many questions between them, it felt strange. They sat in silence for a full minute, or maybe more - it felt long to both of them.

"You don't have a ghost, do you?" Jen finally asked.

Judy would have laughed, but it must have got caught somewhere in her throat. Instead, she just shook her head.

“Is he always like that?”

Judy looked Jen dead in the eye and finally let herself admit it. She nodded.

“Sort of.” She said it slowly, as if she was still trying to figure it out herself. In some ways, she was. It wasn’t easy figuring out how to explain all that to someone  _ normal _ . “He just does things like that, sometimes.”

Jen’s eyes widened. “Things like what?”

"Like the day we met..." She closed her eyes, willing herself to just  _ say it _ . "That morning he locked me in my room for hours.” 

That first sentence sounded awful, she knew. But after that, it was strangely easy. The events she’d been playing over and over in her head just spilled out of her mouth, and without realizing it she was finally telling Jen everything.

She’d been getting herself breakfast when she dropped a glass and woke Paul up. With shards all over the floor, he'd screamed right in her face. Then he'd grabbed her by the wrist - the memory still made her shudder - so tight she felt like he would crush her bones. He'd locked her in her room for hours, the stuffy air weighing in on her as the morning whiled itself away.

That morning, she'd taken her baby blanket and shut herself inside the closet with Dolly - the closet was the only part of the room that ever really felt like hers. It was old and huge on the inside, and no one else ever used it. It always smelled of dust, but in a kind of comforting way. 

She’d tried pretending they were spies, listening in on a top secret meeting about government secrets through the crack in the door. It didn't feel as real as it usually did, though. At best it was half a distraction, until he finally let her out late in the afternoon, and she ran back down to her usual spot on the bank.

"And then, I saw you." Her face broke into a smile, in spite of everything she'd just said. "And everything was okay."

Jen’s mouth fell open at that. There were a million thoughts she almost said right then, but nothing that seemed to matter enough to actually  _ say _ it. 

Judy didn’t pause for long. She was finally telling Jen all the things she’d been too scared to say. It felt so magical letting them all fall out of her, even if they only hung thick in the air around them. Now she knew that she could, and she needed to say  _ everything _ .

After that day, she'd made sure to be up and out of the house before anyone else woke up. It wasn't too hard since they always stayed out late and slept in. She'd sneak back in once she knew the adults had gone out for the night. Most evenings she'd cook herself something - pasta or toast mostly - and make sure there was enough for leftovers. Her mom wasn't good with routines like that. She couldn't be sure she was eating well, but the plates of food she left in the fridge kept vanishing so she kept making them.

She'd make sure not to be in bed too late, not that she had anything else to do in the evenings, but she'd tuck herself in the closet and it kept her safe until morning. It annoyed her mom - when she hid in the closet like a  _ baby _ \- but she knew it was better to be in there than out in the house and getting in the way.

When Judy finally finished, Jen just hugged her. She wasn’t much of a hugger, not at  _ all _ , but this one felt important. 

There was nothing she could say to try and make sense of all the things she’d just heard - the things Judy had kept secret for months only to tell them so nonchalantly, as if they were just  _ normal _ . All she could think to do was hold her best friend tight, wishing there was anything she could do to change Judy’s family, or make all these things she had to live with any easier.

Then she had an idea.


	4. There's a sky where we belong

“You can come and stay with me.” Jen said it excitedly. She couldn't help herself from being proud of her plan - they could spend all their time together  _ and _ Judy wouldn’t have to worry about her family.

“What?” Judy asked, following her up the bank.

“There’s space in my room. I used to have sleepovers all the time,” she explained. “My parents won’t mind.”

Judy didn’t know what to think. Staying with Jen - with her whole family - sounded like a dream come true to her, but she knew it couldn’t be that simple. She wasn’t really the kind of person who had her dreams come true.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on.” Jen grabbed her arm as they rushed up the side of her house. “We can just ask my mom and it’ll be fine.”

“Perfect timing, Jennifer.” As soon as they came through the door, her mother was greeting them with one of her perfectly wide smiles. “Your father and I were just about to go and look for you.”

That made her stop for a second. “Why?”

“We have to talk to you about something.” She gestured back towards their dining table where, sure enough, her father was waiting. 

“Dad’s home?” She was shocked to see him here so early, and on a weekday too.

“Yes,” her mom said briskly. “Now, Judy, it was lovely to see you but we’re going to need to talk to Jennifer alone for a little while.” Suddenly Jen remembered what she was _ supposed  _ to be doing - what they’d come home for in the first place.

“Wait, Mom, we have to ask you something.”

“Another time, Jennifer,” her mom replied firmly.

“But it’s important-”

“I’m sure it is.” She was already carefully steering Judy back towards the door, which had been left hanging wide open in their hurry. “And I look forward to hearing about it later.” Judy shot Jen an apologetic look as she let herself be escorted out and the door closed swiftly behind her.

“Jen, honey, will you come and sit down?” her dad asked.

“What’s this about?” She cautiously sat down opposite him, wondering what on earth could have been important enough to drag him away from work so early. Her mom took the seat beside him and offered a worryingly bright smile.

“I know it’s taken a while, but we’ve finally found a house.” 

She said it as if Jen would be happy - which she probably should have been - but all she could think of right then was Judy.

“It’s in a nice neighborhood, about an hour’s drive away, and there’s a  _ pool _ in the backyard.” Her dad was excited, as if she were the kind of kid who’d care about a pool when she had to leave her best friend. 

Except, she was that kind of kid. When they first moved, she’d begged her parents for a house with a pool and told them it was the  _ only thing _ that could make moving worth it. At the time she hadn’t realized what that really meant - trading her whole life and her friends for a wet hole in the ground. Of course, they would have moved whether it was  _ worth it  _ to her or not. She’d just thought a pool would be a cool bonus.

Now, though, she didn’t even care. She would have traded a hundred pools to change that other part -  _ an hour’s drive _ . How was she supposed to see Judy? Judy, her best friend, who she was supposed to be helping right then instead of moving miles away.

“Can Judy come with us?” She blurted out.

“What?” She’d taken her mom by surprise. “No, of course not.”

“But she has to come and stay with us,” Jen protested.

“Jennifer, don’t be ridiculous.” Her mom sighed. “We’re moving in a couple of weeks, in time for the new school year.”

“But Mom, Judy’s family is  _ bad _ .” Jen didn’t get why they wouldn’t listen to her, or why they didn’t seem to understand how important this was. Then, she had to watch as her mother’s face transformed from a look of plain confusion to the most patronizing smile she’d ever seen. 

“I know, honey.” She nodded with plastic sympathy. “Our new neighborhood is much safer. We won’t have to worry about that any more.”

Jen’s brow furrowed. “But what about Judy?”

“Listen, Jen.” Her dad’s face was sympathetic. He reached out for her arm across the table, which she promptly snatched away. A few months before, she probably would have listened to him, but she couldn’t help being constantly a little mad at him now. It was  _ his _ fault that they were here, after all. “I know she’s your friend, but we don’t think she’s been a very good influence on you.”

Jen stood up to leave, her chair squeaking violently against the floor. What was that even supposed to mean -  _ not a good influence _ ?

“You’ve never even met her,” she argued, outraged that he’d apparently already decided she was some kind of terrible person.

“Jennifer, can you try to calm down  _ please _ .” Her mother, the ever impatient peacekeeper, gave her a  _ look  _ and she slouched back into her chair.

“Your dance teacher called us last week,” she started to explain. It was obvious how much effort it took to keep her tone painfully steady. “She’s concerned about you. She says you hardly talk to any of the other girls on the program, and all we see is you spending all your time with Judy.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “She’s my best friend.”

“I thought Nicole was your best friend?” her dad asked. She glared back at him.

“Maybe she would be if we didn’t live thousands of miles away from-”

“Regardless,” her mom cut her off, desperate to keep things  _ under control _ . “You’ll be able to make plenty of new friends at your new school.”

Jen sighed.  _ Right _ . The new school  _ miles away _ .

“Can we come back? To see Judy?” 

Her mother just shook her head. “We don’t think that’s a good idea, honey.”

Jen didn’t want to believe what she was hearing.

“Living here was always going to be temporary,” her dad pointed out in response to her outraged expression.

“But what about Judy?” she repeated. By this point she was fighting to keep her voice steady and stop her eyes watering up. It was almost working. She  _ couldn’t _ cry. She needed them to take her seriously, and that was hard enough already.

“Honey, we really think this is for the best.” It was her mother’s fake-apologetic tone that really got to Jen, as if she didn’t even know this was all her fault. As if she really  _ wanted _ to help, but her hands were tied. Except her hands weren’t tied.  _ She _ was the one taking away the only friend Jen had left, and she didn’t care.

“No, Mom, it’s not for the best.” She was standing up again, her voice raised enough that she’d be in trouble later, but she was simultaneously too furious and too terrified to care. “You can’t make me move across the whole country and leave all my friends behind, and when I finally have a best friend here you take her away too.”

That left her parents in stunned silence just long enough for her to storm out. She slammed the front door  _ hard _ behind her, and without thinking she found herself running back down the bank.

She wanted to scream in their faces and tear the house apart until they understood what they were doing. They  _ couldn’t  _ drag her away from everything she knew again. She couldn’t leave Judy alone here, with her family and no other friends. Most of all, she knew she couldn’t lose Judy. She couldn’t go from seeing her every day to  _ never _ .

That was the thought that broke Jen - having to start over again on her own. Her legs collapsed under her and she finally let herself sob on the ground. She’d been so miserable that first week in LA, before Judy appeared in the weeds. How was she supposed to do that again? What if this time no one showed up for her to talk to? Even if someone did, they wouldn’t be  _ Judy _ . She picked up a rock and hurled it into the water, and then another. It calmed her rage, but only for a moment. 

“Jen?”

_ Of course _ Judy was there. She’d been watching the whole time from up in her tree, because  _ where else would she be? _

“What’s wrong?”Suddenly Judy was kneeling beside her on the ground and a gentle hand was on her back, trying to comfort her. Jen just broke down into more sobs, for the move and for losing Judy but also for the fact she was crying in front of her and couldn’t even begin to hide it.

“We’re moving,” she said, her voice unsteady through the tears. “In two weeks, and I can’t even come back to visit.”

As soon as it was out there in the air it felt terrifyingly real. Judy just looked at her like a lost puppy. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing really to say, they both knew that. All of a sudden Jen was a ticking time bomb. She knew her parents wouldn’t be driving for hours to see a  _ bad influence _ , and Judy knew her mom wouldn’t like her using up  _ good money _ on the phone. Just as quickly as it had appeared in their lives, their friendship started slipping away.

Except this was more than just a friendship. For Jen, at least, it was like losing Brooklyn all over again. This had been their whole world for months. Judy wrapped her arms around Jen and hugged her tight. It was less of an  _ I’ll miss you _ hug, more of a  _ what am I supposed to do? _

What were either of them supposed to do now, with not quite enough time left in front of them to feel like there was something to save? The summer that had once seemed so endless was finally being pulled out from under them, and what could they do but helplessly watch?

Then Jen found the spark of a brilliant idea behind her puffy eyes.

“Let’s run away.” 

“What?”

“Let’s run away,” she repeated. “You don’t want to go back to your house, and I don’t want to go back to mine, so we won’t.” She made it sound so simple, like it was the most obvious choice in the world. 

“We can’t do that.” Judy’s eyes were wider than ever as she realized her friend was serious.

“Yes we can.”

“Where would we go?” she asked nervously.

Jen’s face broke into an excited little grin. “Wherever we want.”

Judy couldn’t lie to herself. There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to run off and have an adventure with Jen, and never have to see her cold, empty house again. But  _ running away _ was the sort of thing girls did in books. It wasn’t something the two of them could get away with in real life, right?

“I don’t know.”

Jen sighed. “Well,  _ I’m _ going to run away tonight. You can come if you want.” That settled it for Judy. As crazy as it sounded, she knew she couldn’t leave her best friend all alone.

“I’ll come,” she said, her expression deep and serious. 

“Good.” Jen smiled. “We should go and pack some things.” She said it decidedly, as if she had any real clue what they were doing. “And meet back here at six.”

By the time she made it back out to the bank with her backpack, Jen’s heart was pounding. What had seemed like a cool idea was suddenly very, very real. Telling her mom she was going to Judy’s house for dinner had just felt weird, and maybe going  _ wherever they wanted _ wasn’t the most reassuring plan when dusk was already settling down on them.

Still, she couldn’t let herself get too worried. She might not have had a rock solid plan, but knowing she’d be with Judy and away from all the adults who were trying to ruin  _ everything  _ really seemed like enough. 

Judy was already there waiting for her, and the question of _where_ _exactly_ they were supposed to go snuck up on them too fast. They stuck with the one place they knew - the one place that felt more like a home than either of their houses by that point - their little river bank. This time, though, they didn’t just stay by the side of the water. They crossed the log bridge and passed the swing and kept going.

There wasn’t much land at all between the river bank and another street of houses and a long chain link fence that cut them off from a golf course, but to two girls on an adventure it seemed endless. Soon, they found a spot just far enough away from any houses that they couldn’t be seen through the trees. It might have been called a clearing if the trees surrounding it were thick or lively enough to really be called a forest.

Jen laid out her picnic rug on the ground, and Judy pulled her baby blanket over their legs when they sat down. They probably could have built themselves a real shelter out of all the different branches on the ground, but there hardly seemed any point in that. It was a warm night, there was no chance of rain, and it was easy enough to settle down on the ground. Jen took out her snacks from her backpack - two cans of soda and a box of those little entenmann’s cookies that Judy liked - and they had a sort of late dinner as the dusk became real darkness.

-

“How do you know you want a wife?” Jen asked, gazing up at the sky.

She didn’t know where that came from - she hadn’t been thinking it a few moments before. In a way, though, she’d been thinking about it for weeks. Once it was out there, it seemed like more of an inevitability than a surprise that she’d finally asked  _ something _ about their talk in the tree.

Judy lay beside her on the picnic rug, both of them still tucked under Judy’s blanket. Technically, they’d said they were going to sleep, but they hadn’t run out of things to talk about yet. It was a clear night, and there must have been at least a million stars above them. Everywhere they really looked, the smallest little specks of light would appear out of the darkness.

“I don’t know.” Judy’s reply was slow, and thoughtful. She’d never exactly been able to talk about it like this. “I just do. How do you know you want a husband?”

Jen couldn’t answer that. She had ideas in her head, for sure - it was  _ right _ , it was what she’d always imagined, it was obviously what her parents would expect. None of that seemed like a good enough explanation for Judy, though.

“I mean, have you even kissed a boy?” Judy asked through her silence.

“Yes.” Jen answered, almost proudly. “I have.” Not many of the girls in her grade had kissed boys yet, but she had - Jake Cooper at the spring dance that year. 

She’d told her friends he was a good kisser, but really it had been a bit wet and neither of them knew what to do. They’d kissed twice during the dance and been  _ boyfriend and girlfriend _ for maybe a week in school after, until they got into an argument and  _ broke up _ .

“Really?” Judy turned onto her side to look at Jen, impressed and a little surprised she hadn’t known that already. 

“Mmhmm.” Jen nodded and looked back at her.

“What was it like?”Her eyes were wide and suddenly so close to Jen’s.

She paused for a moment before she answered. “It was okay.” It was only after she’d said it that she realized this was the first time she hadn’t felt like she had to pretend it was so  _ special _ . Judy just nodded, and looked back at the sky.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” she said in the air. Jen didn’t bother pretending to be surprised.

She wondered, just for a moment, what it might be like to kiss a girl. Not in the married way, just in the way she might kiss someone at a school dance. She’d never seen two girls kiss at a dance, though. She wondered what it might be like to kiss  _ Judy _ , with her soft brown hair and little pointed lips. Maybe she’d taste sweet like their soda. She was pretty sure Judy would be a better kisser than Jake, at least. Maybe it could be nice, even though she wasn’t sure how a girl kissing a girl was even supposed to work.

If it had been a different day, or if their conversation had gone a little differently, maybe she would have found out. As it happened, she turned her head back up towards the sky at exactly the right moment and-

“Did you see that?”

The dash of silver vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“Yeah.” Judy said it softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the peace in that moment.

“Was it real?” Jen could still see her memory of it etched into the dark sky, like her mind was playing it over and over.

“I think so. We both saw it, right?”

“Yeah.” Jen couldn’t help smiling into the air as she realized it had to be real. It felt like nothing less than magic, seeing it right there with Judy. “I’ve never seen a shooting star before.”

“A shooting star…” Judy repeated. Saying it out loud felt different, like it was something beautiful that had  _ really happened _ . “Me neither.”

Jen’s smile only grew wider and she started laughing, just a little, out of pure delight. It was as if the whole universe was on their side right then, and there was nothing left that could make that moment any more perfect. 

Then, just as fast as the star had slipped away into the darkness, their moment ran out.

“Jennifer!” 

She’d know that shrill shout  _ anywhere _ .

_ Of course _ Jen’s parents had found them. Jen only noticed then that they’d done a really terrible job at actually running away. They weren’t exactly hard to find. When she hadn’t come home and it was already dark out, they’d stormed over to Judy’s house to fetch her. They’d found Judy’s house empty - no parents, and definitely no girls - and then they started to worry.

The bank was the first place they’d checked, obviously. It was where their daughter seemed to spend all her time, so it was a pretty safe bet. The girls hadn’t gone far enough into the trees for the light of Jen’s torch to be hidden from anyone standing right by the water, and that was how their great adventure of  _ running away _ ended as quickly as it began.

When she first heard her parents’ voices, there was a part of Jen that felt relieved. In the back of her mind, she knew their plan would have to be short-lived. They were already out of snacks and had no better plans for a place to sleep the next night, or any nights after that. Even if it had been worth it to see a  _ real life shooting star _ \- like something out of a movie and over too fast to ever be sure it was real - her mother certainly made her regret it. She was  _ furious _ . It was like nothing Jen had ever seen before - the way she pulled her up from the ground and kept a forceful grip on her wrist all the way up to shutting her in her bedroom, sending Judy home along the way.

She didn’t yell - neither of her parents did - she refused to speak to her daughter at all. It was one of those times, though, that Jen would have preferred being screamed at. She knew things would be even worse in the morning.

She couldn’t sleep once she was back in her own bed. Partly it was fear for whatever her parents had in store, but more than that she worried about Judy. She didn’t know what could happen if her mom or Paul found out, and got really  _ angry _ with her, but she knew it couldn’t be a good thing. She could picture Judy, tucked up in her closet with her blanket. That was exactly why they’d run away in the first place, and now everything was even worse.

-

Breakfast the next morning wasn’t exactly  _ fun _ , as breakfasts go. Jen had eventually tired and slipped into a much-needed sleep by the early hours of the morning. Her parents, on the other hand, had only bounced rage back and forth between them all night. If anything, they were  _ worse _ than the night before, with any concerns for Jen’s safety evaporating while she slept soundly in her bed.

So, she sat through lectures upon lectures that lasted far longer than her cereal. Her mother’s voice rose and fell through different levels of hysteria as she cried tears of  _ worry _ that Jen just couldn’t bring herself to care about. She was  _ selfish _ , that much was true, and  _ irresponsible _ , not to mention  _ childish  _ and  _ idiotic _ and  _ disappointing _ . The list went on forever, and she sat through it all.

She didn’t let herself shout back at them, didn’t let herself cry, and even managed a few  _ I’m sorry _ s that bordered on sincere. She figured she deserved to be yelled at - partly for running off, but mostly for leaving Judy alone with her family, and probably getting her in even more trouble. If  _ her _ parents were like this, she didn’t want to imagine what Judy’s mom and Paul would do. All she was really thinking about at that table was Judy, wondering how soon she could escape her parents and find out if she was okay. 

It was only when her parents moved on from general lecturing to actual punishments that they held Jen’s attention completely.

“You’re not to see Judy again, obviously.” It was the way her dad added the  _ obviously _ , as if she was stupid for even worrying about  _ when _ she’d see Judy - the only person in the world that she liked or cared about in that moment.

“That’s not  _ fair _ .” She could hear her voice rising, feel her eyes starting to water, and there was nothing she could do. She was tensing every muscle in her body in a desperate attempt to calm herself down, but it was a losing battle. This wasn’t just being yelled at or grounded, this was  _ Judy _ .

“We were concerned about the two of you already, and then we find you running off in the woods in the middle of the night?” her dad scoffed back at her. His words were like a knife and she couldn’t hold herself together for another second.

“You can’t  _ do _ that. It was  _ my  _ idea to run away.” Jen didn’t remember standing but suddenly she was leaning over the table and screaming at her parents through tears. “She only came cause she’s my best friend, and she’s the  _ only _ person here who cares about me, but you wouldn’t know that cause you’re never even  _ here _ .”

In the moment her dad hesitated at her words, she picked up her chair and hurled it back at the ground. Before the consequences of  _ that _ could catch up with her, she stormed back into her room and let the door cut her off from the rest of the world with one quick  _ slam _ .

As she collapsed back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, she knew she couldn’t do this.  _ This _ couldn’t be her view for the next two weeks. It couldn’t be how her summer ended. She couldn’t just never sit on the bank with Judy ever again - their bank. All she needed was to  _ see _ it. She needed their yellow grass and weeds and their water and their swing and their spiny trees. And Judy - she couldn’t even bring herself to think about how badly she needed to see her.

Before she could even think about it she was standing, and then she was climbing out her small, pathetic little window. Her parents had already tried to take away everything that mattered, she thought,  _ what’s the use in playing by the rules now? _

She scraped her knee on the rough bricks and she didn’t care. She was already running, maybe faster than she’d ever run in her life, pure adrenaline carrying her out of reality and back into their own private world.

When she reached the water she screamed. It was a desperate, gut-wrenching scream that made her throat burn with the whole world spinning around her. She didn’t stop. Her legs carried her over the log bridge and past their trees and right back to the swing.  _ Everything had started on that swing _ .

She pulled it back as far as she could, stuck one foot into the bottom of the tire, and clenched her fingers tight around the rope. Then all it took was picking her other foot up off the ground, and she swung out.

It was like everything was happening to her in slow motion. First she was flying, the air harsh on her face and hair sprawling out behind her. Then, when her momentum slowed and the swing reached its peak, she let her fingers relax. The tire and rope fell away from her and she was alone, hanging still in the thick summer air.

Suddenly she was too high above the water - high enough to be really scared. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she screamed, this time involuntarily, as she plummeted towards the water, falling and falling until-

She gasped for breath right as the water engulfed her, pressing in against every inch of her skin. 

For the first time in months, she felt cold - properly, freezing cold in the still, early-morning water. It was so beautifully refreshing that she didn’t even mind the wet clothes clinging to her. She was still spluttering to catch her breath when she heard a frantic splashing behind her. Hair swirling around her neck, she turned to look.

“Judy!”

Without a second thought, Jen closed the gap between them and wrapped her in a tight hug that nearly pulled the pair of them under. Her expression briefly turned to horror when she realized what she’d done, but Judy’s head sprung back out of the river and she was laughing. She sent a splash of water right towards Jen’s face as payback for the accidental dunking, and soon they were both squealing and splashing as if the previous night and the day before that had never even happened. 

“You finally jumped.” Judy said it with the kind of smile that made her eyes glimmer, or maybe it was just the reflection of the sun sparkling in the water. Of course Judy had watched her jump, deep in the weeds and just as invisible as she’d been the very first time she’d laid eyes on the blonde girl in the swing. When Jen had finally let go, she’d smiled to herself.

“Told you I wasn’t  _ scared _ .” Jen punctuated that last word with another splash that flew straight into Judy’s open mouth and left her choking and laughing in equal measures. She was busy catching her breath for just long enough that Jen could remember why she was there in the first place. 

“Did your parents go nuts?” she asked with a grimace. “Mine did.”

“Yeah.” Judy’s head tilted to the side in a sort of shrug for when your shoulders are underwater. “But it was okay.” 

She didn’t want to admit that her mom hadn’t found out she came home late at all. She wasn’t even sure her absence would have been noted if they were still both on the run. The house had been empty when Jen’s mom sent her back, as usual, and her routines had carried on in much the same way. That was definitely a good thing, though.

Before Jen could ask anymore, she took her by surprise with another splash. Judy heard a squeal before a fresh wave splattered straight back in her face. Just like that, they stayed in the water, clinging onto those last few moments of summer as best they could. 

It was that time in August - when school gets so close you can feel it every day, and there's nothing left to do except endure the sun and enjoy the empty days and hope to do it all again next year. Except they wouldn't get a  _ next year _ . The end of their summer would be an ending for good. Neither of them knew how exactly they were meant to face that, so they didn’t.


	5. Summer drifts like a child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sm to anyone who's got this far!! This last one's shorter and more of an epilogue but I hope y'all like it :)

By some miracle, Jen’s parents never found out about their little swimming trip - it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to stay in her room for hours on end when she was mad. The girls weren’t allowed to spend much more time together, but by the day of the move Jen’s mother had cooled off enough to raise no objections when Judy showed up on her porch.

“Is it too late to run away again?” Judy asked, only half-joking, once she’d made it through the house and Jen’s bedroom door was safely closed behind her.

Jen turned around, startled. She’d been laying on her stomach in her now-empty room - aside from her backpack for the car ride - and had expected the click of her door to be just another  _ check in _ from her mom to make sure she was ready to go. 

She smiled. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to say a proper goodbye to Judy. That whole week she’d been imagining some scene in front of her parents, carefully watching to make sure Judy wasn’t being too much of a  _ bad influence _ , and in some ways that seemed worse than not saying goodbye at all.

“You could hide in our trunk?” she suggested.

Judy laughed. 

“I have something to give you, before you go.” That took Jen by surprise. She kicked herself for not even thinking of getting Judy a present in return as she stood up.

Judy reached into her pocket, and Jen thought for a second that she was intending to give away Dolly. She hoped it wouldn’t be that - the doll was far more important for Judy than it ever could be for Jen. She was just trying to think of a kind way to refuse that sort of a gift when Judy pulled out a small white stone instead, holding it out in the open palm of her hand.

“It’s not a pearl, but I call it one cause I’m not really sure what it is,” she explained. Jen’s eyes narrowed in a puzzled expression, not sure what to make of a gift that looked like just another pebble. 

“My mom has loads of rocks and crystals, she says they have good  _ energy _ ,” she added when she saw Jen’s confusion. “And I think this one has really good energy. It’s from the river, from the day we met.”

Jen didn’t have a clue what she was on about -  _ how could a stone have energy? It wasn’t even alive  _ \- but she knew the sort of pretty gemstones you get in gift shops and fancy necklaces, and figured this could be Judy’s version of that. She took the stone, rolling it between her fingers and examining it’s perfectly smooth, pale surface.

“Thanks.” She smiled at Judy when she said it, and watched her best friend’s eyes light up with that overwhelming wonder one last time.

When they finally were saying goodbye - one last, extra-tight hug - Jen didn’t cry. Judy’s eyes were watering a little bit but she was good at keeping it in. Jen wasn’t even holding anything back. She would have done if she needed to, but she was somehow okay through the whole thing.

Maybe it was the fact that she’d been getting used to this for a couple of weeks already, or maybe it was just that she couldn’t imagine her life here without Judy, so she couldn’t quite tell how much she was losing in that moment, but she didn’t even feel a hint of a tear in her eye. She didn’t even feel sad, exactly. She felt empty. She had no idea what she was supposed to do once they’d driven the hour to the new house -  _ what exactly had she done with all her free time before she met Judy? _

When they finally broke apart from each other, it was only a matter of minutes before Judy was back in her own house and Jen was settled in the backseat. It was their last time driving down that street, and she didn’t look back. She realized maybe she should have - to get one last glimpse of her house, and Judy’s, and everything they’d known so well - but by the time she thought about it they’d already turned a corner.

While Jen was staring out at endless houses and barren landscapes that still felt more like strange deserts than home, she promised herself she wouldn’t forget Judy. Somehow, she knew she had to figure out a way to visit, just to see her again. 

In the end, she didn’t.

She’d insisted Judy write down her phone number before she left - it was scrawled on a scrap of lined paper in her pocket - even though she knew Judy wasn’t allowed to answer it. She called a few times,  _ just in case _ , but no one ever picked up.

She thought about Judy every day, and then after a while, she didn’t. She stopped imagining that they were talking at night.

They were never the kind of friends who took photos, or spent enough time around adults to have them snapped unwillingly. Before she knew it, the image of Judy’s face became more of a mousy brown blur in her mind.

Being the new girl from New York made Jen  _ interesting _ once school started, and making new friends was easier than she’d imagined. They were more like her old friends in Brooklyn - pretty girls with nice families and big houses. Lots of them were dancers, too.

By the time the next summer rolled around, the little white stone on Jen’s bookcase was the only solid proof left that they’d ever been friends. But so much had changed with nearly a whole year behind them that a few new friendships seemed like nothing at all.

By then, Judy knew what a courtroom was, and what lawyers and judges did. She lived in a different house, with different grown-ups and lots of other noisy kids. She’d learned that five years feels basically the same as  _ forever  _ when it’s only just starting. Her closet in the new house wasn’t really big enough to fit inside.

Jen had done her fair share of learning too, or probably more than that. Now she knew what cancer meant, and how to pronounce  _ chemotherapy _ , and what her perfectly groomed mother looked like bald. The first time she’d seen her with a shaved head, Jen laughed. Then she’d seen the tears in her eyes - she’d never seen her mom cry before - and she started crying instead.

That next summer didn’t feel as endless as the one they’d spent in trees by the river. Their newer worries had a nasty habit of sticking around, too stubborn to wither away with the end of the school year. 

They held onto the things they still remembered - a beautiful blend of trees and daydreams and a night full of stars - but it all felt distant now. It was strange, loving someone who’d changed in ways they couldn’t begin to imagine.  Maybe all they loved was the memories of the people they’d been - two best friends who didn’t exist anymore. 

Sometimes Jen wondered, if they ever happened to meet again, whether they would recognize one another at all.


End file.
